No Place Like Home
by Sica520
Summary: Emmaline Goldenrod's nephew had left her. Gone suddenly without warning. The only thing he left behind was a note that explained nothing. She thought he was gone. She never thought he would return, but most of all she never thought he would be so different if he ever did. Now he come back as this stranger who says he owes her an explanation. (OC is Oscar's Aunt)


Authors Note: I already posted this on Archive or our Own and I wanted to cross-post here, too. I actually wrote this during the break in-between vol 5 and 6, I have since rewritten parts to make it more cannon complacient. I wrote this because I have feelings about the tiny farm child, angsty feelings. It is unacceptable to have this child be so alone and broken, cuz good Brother's Grimm, this boy needs someone in his corner, especially considering everything he has been through, (looking at you volume 6).  
Then I proceeded to take forever in posting it because, I am not one to post what I write and I am not too confident in my writing (specifically in the spelling department). So I waited too long and now vol 6 has made me rethink some stuff and rewrite some parts. So now I have reworked it and will finally post it.

BTW Disclaimer I don't own RWBY if I did we would focus a lot more on the story potential "Soul Merging" has. I also don't own the name I gave Oscar's Aunt, but she is basically an OC, because as of vol 6 we know nothing about her or his parents. Emmaline (because Auntie Em duh also it means "hardworking" and "peaceful home" which is perfect, even if it's not exactly a color. ) Goldenrod (I am pretty sure a previous fic gave her this last name which I loved cause Follow the yellow brick road, plus I felt it fit the world of Remnant better than Gale. I can't remember which fic it was, so sorry for the unspecific disclaimer) Oh, and Oscar's older design is based on a tumblr artist's  
(link post/156871922587) Interpretation that worked in Ozpin's outfit with Oscar's and it is amazing! (Again this was written before Little Prince Oscar stole Qrow's wallet and bought some new clothes.)

Without further ado, cue the angsty reunion fic about Oscar and his aunt that no one asked for.

Work Text:

* * *

Emmaline Goldenrod stood at the threshold of her nephew's room. She had yelled for him to get up several times, which was odd the boy was at an age where he had gotten used to rising with the sun to do his morning chores. However, today she hadn't seen him. His tasks had remained undone. She had called his name, but there had been no answer. She made her way up to his bedroom, her shouts getting louder as she got angrier. She flung the door open. Instantly all her anger morphed into fear.

Oscar was not in his room.

His bed was made and on his desk was a note. She went over and picked it up.

 _"Auntie Em,_

 _I am sorry. I am so sorry for doing this to you, but I am leaving. I think you and I both knew that I wouldn't really stay on this farm forever. I need to...do something. I don't know if I will be back. Don't worry about me; I'll be fine. But I cannot just sit here while Remnant falls apart. Sorry._

 _Oscar."_

She read the note over and over again, trying to make sense of it. She had lost the last family she had left. Her sister had always wanted to be a Huntress and had gotten her wish. Emmaline knew that life was dangerous for Huntsman; she was forcibly reminded of this fact when she found out that her sister and her brother-in-law had died. A mission had gone wrong, apparently. Orphaning their young son; Emmaline had taken him in, as they were the only family each other had left. She knew that Oscar was like his mother, always reading about far off places and not entirely content with the simple albeit uneventful life of farming. Instead, his head was filled with dreams of going beyond what he knew and chasing rainbows.

Yes, she had known that one day he would leave her too. But she had hoped that it wouldn't be so sudden, that maybe they could sit down and have a conversation along with a proper goodbye. Leaving in the dead of night with nothing but a note as a farewell, was not what she envisioned.

He was 14. Still so young.

Although, he was about old enough to start training at one of the combat schools like Signal or Sanctum, especially if he wanted to follow his parent's footsteps and be a professional Huntsman. She just hopes he wouldn't follow them too closely. Don't worry, He had said.

Foolish boy, that only made her worry more.

...

Days passed. Every day she would go to wake him up, hoping beyond hope that he would be there. Maybe his letter was a nightmare; maybe he never left.

But he had.

...

Weeks passed. Every day she would gaze out into the distance of their farmhouse tricking herself that she would see his silhouette coming back to her.

But he never did.

...

Seasons passed. She had forgotten how difficult it was to do the seasonal harvest all by herself.

...

Years passed. Emmaline let go of her hope that he might return.

 _"I don't know if I'll be back_ ," He had written, giving her an indefinite answer.

Now she had one. She almost wished he had put: " _I won't be back,"_ So she didn't torture herself with what ifs.

* * *

It was late. Emmaline was hard at work. Harvest was soon, and she was only one woman.

She stopped for a moment and looked beyond the horizon.

There was a figure there.

It was making its slow way towards her farmhouse. She could make out that it was human, although they walked with a strange gait, what looked like a walking stick helping them along. He drew closer; she could now tell it was a he, He was close enough to almost recognize him in the dying light of the sun.

He looked so _different._

The young man was about 16 or 17, but he somehow seemed much older, perhaps that was the cane he leaned on or the crooked spectacles on his face. His white shirt had been traded for a dark green with a black jacket over it, but he still had the white scarf around his neck, his suspenders, and he evidently had still not learned how to tuck his shirt in all the way. His gloves too were dark green with hints of orange and complemented the cane in his hand. His pants still had patches, and she could see his mother's rainbow handkerchief looped in his belt, as always.

"Oscar?" She asked with a trembling voice and tears streaming down her face.

"I came back, Auntie Em," he responded. His voice was deeper than she remembered it and had a strange cadence. She rushed at him, and for a split second, he looked startled as if preparing for a fight.

When she hugged him, he remained stiff.

He was slightly taller than her, now. She gazed up into his face, searching, there was something odd there or perhaps it was missing something she wasn't quite sure; it had _changed_ as well.

"Is it really you?" She asked wondering if she was dreaming. Although, in the reunion of her dreams he always looked the same as he did when she last saw him. She realized now how foolish it was to assume that he wouldn't be any different when he returned. He didn't answer her question. Perhaps he wasn't sure how. Instead, the words out of his mouth were an apology.

"I am sorry, so sorry,"

"Where have you been?!" She demanded, her confused emotions turned back into anger. She should grab him and twist his ear off, like she did before when he did something wrong. She could barely remember a time when he was so angry at him, "Do you have any idea how worried I was?!" She looked at him her brain clashing with all of the subtle differences in how he was now. "What…" His clothes. His accessories. His eyes. His posture. His voice. All different. The anger drained away into something she couldn't quite name, "What happened to you?"

He sighed, a labored sound that seemed to hold the weight of the world, "That is a long and convoluted story. And the reason I came is to tell it," he gave her a guilty look "But not here, you look exhausted. Perhaps over a warm drink?"

She didn't tell him that he looked just as tired, if not more. She also held back from commenting about how having to work the season's harvest alone had drained her, he probably already knew and blamed himself. Instead, she nodded and led the way to the kitchen where they had had so many meals together. Emmaline put the kettle on, " So, tea or coffee or..." she asked awkwardly.

"Do you still have cocoa?"

"I think we might have some left," She got out the old tin that she usually only brought out when they had finisished shoveling the light dusting of snow together.

Cocoa in hand, the two sat in awkward silence for a moment. How had they become so _distant_?

He took a sip and then sighed. She was beginning to hate that sound. " So I am sure that you want to know why I left. In my note, I...I said that I needed to do something. That Remnant was in danger. And...well. I uh wasn't exaggerating,"

Yes, his note was frustratingly vague. Something. He couldn't even tell her what he had to do. Why he left. No just, I have to do _something_ , and then a random mention of the world in danger.

"What do you mean?" She asked, surprised by how evenly the question came out.

"Um... well, I... uh," he trailed off. "how did I do this before," he mumbled to himself. He looked at his aunt, suddenly serious. "what's your favorite fairytale?"

"What?" She sputtered nonplussed by the change in topics. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Please, trust me. Some of the stuff that I am about to tell you is going to sound crazy and impossible," Her nephew told her. "Believe me I know," he muttered under his breath annoyed. "But please believe me when I tell you that what I say is the truth."

"Oscar you are not making any sense," her frustration was growing with every word that answered nothing.

He chuckled. "yeah. I know," he paused. "Telling the truth, ...well it has never really been a strong suit of mine, simply put the truth is often times stranger than fiction," she wasn't sure how to respond to that. Especially, since from what she knew Oscar never struggled with telling the truth; in fact it was almost the opposite. She remembered a time when he had tried to lie to her about doing his chores, and a few minutes later he came back with a tearful confession.

He was never good at lying.

"It has been so long since I have willingly told anyone this, and well the older the habit the harder it is to break," he gave a pitiful humorless chuckle. "Also the truth is rarely ever pleasant, and in my case it is... not a happy tale. Once more, I apologize," he paused, and gave her a determined look. "But I will try, I understand the damage lies cause. While, there are times when you want to keep things from ...those you love, lies only cause... pain. I have caused you enough pain, you deserve to know the truth," he continued. "I owe you that much," Another strangled sigh, "I only wish I had a better one to tell you" the last part was whispered so softly, and she wasn't sure if she was supposed to hear it.

Regardless, she supposed that she owed it to him to humor his question.

"Oscar, you already know my favorite fairytale, remember?" She felt odd telling him something that should have been common knowledge. Had he somehow forgotten the times when they would sit by the fire and she would read to him? "The Tale of the Four Seasons, You know how important seasons are to farm life," Did he forget all the times she used that tale to explain why what they did was important? Why the farm life could be just as rewarding as the dangerous life of a huntsman. The reaping of the harvest, the cultivating the field, the sharing of fresh foods. Everything always came back to the Farm for Emmaline. It was her home.

It had once been his.

"Oh. Right." He awkwardly fiddled with his cane. His eyes met hers with such concentration and sorrow, "Well, would you believe me if I told you it was true?"

"Oscar stop this nonsense. I thought you said that you would tell me the truth,"

"I am. I swear to you I am. I swear by both the brothers, I am," There was an odd expression on his face, a kind of desperation. " There exist people who can do magic," her face must have showed her disbelief, because he began to talk faster. "No dust or semblance required. I know that you are not a very superstitious woman, but please believe me," he was pleading with her.

"Alright, fine. Let's say I _do_ believe you. Let's say that I believe that there is such a thing as … as _magic_. Let's say that I believe that the four maidens of a _bedtime story_ exist. What does this have to do with you?"

He chuckled darkly, "Everything." At her look he continued, "let me explain. Do you know another fairytale, the one about the creation of Remnant?"

"Somewhat,"

"The two brothers, an elder and a younger, light and darkness, creation and destruction, formed Remnant. Together they created humanity, with both the potential to create and destroy." He began softly with a kind of gravity that didn't belong in his voice, and certainly didn't match the tone of light-hearted fairytales.

"The gods... gave mankind four gifts, made into physical representations by the god of light: creation, destruction, knowledge, and finally choice. However, mankind has a great enemy, the Grimm, and their master, _Salem_ ," The foreign name passed his lips with a twisted type of intimacy. The name itself seemed to hold a history. One that, based on the way he wouldn't look her directly, she was not going to get. His adverted gaze held guilt, again apologizing for something she didn't quite understand. "She will stop at nothing to get her hands on these... gifts. The gods... assigned... a man to protect the world of Remnant from her,"

Oscar spun the tale for her, had he always been this good of a storyteller? Everything seemed so real as he described them, as if the towering old gods of Remnant were visible in this room. His passionate retelling was honestly starting to scare Emmaline a little, he was taking this too seriously, gazing into her eyes too intensely or else avoiding her gaze too carefully.

Why had he returned to talk of _fairytales?_ It was like he was describing a dream, it was nonsensical and yet it was hard not to believe that he really had experienced this. You never quite know whether or not you are dreaming, while the dream is playing out; you are under the impression that it is real up until awakening. She didn't think that she would be able to convince him to wake up, to come back to her completely, instead she sat and listened; As she had when he had come to her with a nightmare that he had convinced himself was real.

"That man. Well, ...he... _failed_. He, well I would like to be able to say that he tried to stop Salem, for a multitude of reasons, but the truth is more complicated then that. He couldn't stop her, there was nothing he could do. Or at least nothing that he was able to bring himself to do. So, humanity paid the price for his mistake. Remnant was doomed all due to m...one man," She saw pain flood his eyes and his words drowned in a deep sense of guilt. "The gods had given him another chance at life, so to speak, a blessing...a curse, he will forever walk Remnant until he succeeds in his task. He cannot ever be at peace, rather after he dies his soul will reincarnate into another's,"

Here he paused and looked back at her seemingly trying to assess how much she believed him. How much _did_ she believe him? How could any of these things he said be true? Gods? A Master of Grimm? A reincarnated soul? And what does it have to do with them? With her nephew? The boy who no longer seemed to act as she remembered... The half formed thought was pushed out of her head.

She was being silly, changing was a regular part of growing up. He had been gone for a while it was only natural that he should be so... _different,_ right?

"The wizard in the story of the seasons is that same man. After centuries of trying and failing he became secluded. It destroyed him to see the harm _She_ had caused, he had _let_ her cause, and...he began… well, he began to _hate_ the world. He hated everything, especially himself, perhaps humankind was better off without him. After all they were certainly making advancements in the war against the Grimm. He would only fail again if he tried. And despite how much he hated it, _she_ had a point, humanity would never stop tearing themselves apart, and perhaps _she_ was right about them," his voice twisted in a bitter cruel way that Emmaline did not like. She also disliked the way he kept referring to humanity, as if he himself was not one of them.

"Perhaps his task truly was _pointless_ , and this world truly _godsforsaken_. So he shut himself away out of cowardice. Out of selfishness. Out of shame. He gave up out of hopelessness." He spoke assigning passions that were not present in the fairytale. This version of the tale was not the happy children's story she had told him growing up. His voice broke and cracked recalling the rough emotions; he spoke as if they were his own.

"When the four maidens came they reminded him of... They reminded him of another time and provided him with... well what he desperately needed. Another chance. Hope in the arrival of spring. Strength in the plentiful harvest. Courage to brace the winter. And finally joy basking in the summer sun. He in turn gave them some of his power, so that they could help Remnant. It was obvious that he wasn't up for the task alone. He also asked each girl to help him protect a relic."

He paused for a moment, becoming lost in his thoughts. When he continued speaking the tired guilt was present in his voice again. "The king of Vale was also that same man, again witnessing the... _horrors._..caused. The war over creativity, a war over creation, stopped by m...by _his_ hand, by destruction."

Emmaline watched as a war he had never seen, one that was fought hundreds of years before he was born, seemed to flash before his eyes.

"He built the four schools to hide the relics away, so no one would ever use them again. So that kind of destruction never had to be seen again. When the king died, his soul found another and another. The cycle continued, as it always would. The same man; A prodigy, a young man who was not ready for the task at hand, regardless he became the youngest headmaster of Beacon Academy. He took on the name Professor Ozpin and tried to protect his school and his students. But he too failed."

There were tears now, falling into his drink disturbing his reflection.

"He _failed_ to recognize the enemies plan. He _failed_ and sacrificed the lives of many of his students. Beacon fell, the C.C.T. Tower fell, innocent children fell, and it was all m... _his_ fault. ...He failed to save Beacon."

Yet again he paused before the pronoun as if he was about to say something different. Emmaline watched as emotions swirled through the boy like a kaleidoscope: Anger, self-pity, shame, guilt, self-hatred, and extreme sadness. Oscar had always worn his heart on his sleeve and as he spoke bottled up feelings seemed to be bursting out of him.

"An assailant stole the fall maidens powers and killed... _him,_ " pain. There was a raw terrified pain in his eyes, an almost instinctual terror.

He paused and collected himself and then continued, "As always the wizard didn't stay dead, and a new young man was forced to bear an impossible destiny. He was so so young and so so _scared_ , more scared then he had once thought possible," the fear was back in his eyes. "But he knew what he had to do. He could not do nothing. Not again. He could not pretend that the outside world didn't exist. Pretend that m... _his_ task didn't exist, that this war wasn't real. He would not let his fear and selfishness be the cause of more destruction. _Not again_. So the boy left, left his home, left...m... _his_ farm, and headed to the unknown world that he had only ever read about." with these last few lines an idea was forming in her head, an insane idea.

And yet, he had explained another's life in such great detail. He spoke of things that if they were true he should have no knowledge of and if they weren't real then there would be no reason to speak of the fairytales. Lastly, he described what could only be him. He looked her in the eyes and put the final nail in the coffin. "That boy was Oscar Pine,"

Silence fell, and his words replayed in her mind. Over and over as unreal as the the letter that first told her he was gone.

"So you …" Emmaline was at a loss for words. His words were too raw to be fake, but they were too absurd to be real. Her nephew was claiming he was a centuries-old man tasked with stopping an ancient evil. How could she believe him?

He sighed, the heaviness that he has been carrying almost made sense, "I am a combination of countless men who have given their lives to try to protect Remnant, a combination... that now includes your nephew,"

 _What exactly did that mean?_ She wondered.

"So you are...not… my Oscar?" The words were too soft. Although, he heard them.

The quiet words seemed to break both of their hearts.

"Not quite, I am sorry," he replied with a soft tragic smile. "I have all of his memories, but I also have all of Oz's. It's confusing, and sometimes it's hard to tell which ones are which. I mean all of them are me, or were me, or...I don't know...As for my personality, I am not sure. I feel _different_ but yet at the same time, I feel... _normal_. I don't really know how to explain it. Like I know for a fact that I am different, but I don't feel it, but that in itself is weird and different. Instead I feel like I was always supposed to feel this way, that It's _right_. That I am somehow more _complete_. It's strange, and I know that I am not making any sense. I sound like a crazy person, but I have gotten used to it," he spoke as if he himself wasn't really sure about who he is, staring at his cane with a look of confusion and discomfort.

Emmaline studied this boy, this man? He seemed so lost, and for a second she only saw her little Oscar. So lost and alone, and in desperate need of someone to care. She laid her hand on his shoulder, which seemed to startle him. He seemed to be expecting her to kick him when he was down.

"It's alright," she said, not quite sure how to comfort someone who literally has been alive since the beginning of time, especially not when he was still just a child. Her child. "I believe you," she could give him this though.

She could grant him the trust he requested.

"You do?" His voice sounded so young and so old at the same time. It was too tired and broken.

She knew what to say, even if she didn't believe. Even if she didn't understand, she could still try to be there for him. Just like when Oscar's parents died; she could try to be there when he felt lost. To calm him down after a nightmare, to give him what she knew he needed. Her little boy, regardless of anything else he claimed he was, he was her gentle and kind little boy and it hurt seeing him so broken down.

"I do, and I forgive you,"

He obviously wasn't expecting that. His eyes grew wide, and he looked incredulously at her. She wondered if in any of his other memories, supposedly other lifetimes, if anyone had ever said that to him. He seemed to blame himself for everything. "I forgive you, Oscar. I love you, regardless of any kind of magic or the crazy things that have happened, even if you are not entirely the same Oscar as you were, regardless of anything I love you,"

She hugged him, and this time he hugged her back.

After a while he broke away from her.

"You know that I can't stay, right?" he mumbled. "I can't leave Beacon, it's all my fault it's like that, I have to do something," she nodded she had thought he would say something like that.

"Well, you and I both knew that you wouldn't really stay at this farm forever, at least this time we can have a proper goodbye,"

"I might come back,"

Another indefinite answer.

Another stab of false hope.

She shook her head closing the distance between them again. "I understand if you can't."

One last embrace.

One last sacrifice that he must make.

One last family member she must watch leave her behind.

"You must have important obligations," If he truly was this great and powerful wizard, the previous king of Vale and headmaster of Beacon Academy, then far be it for her to keep him here. She couldn't do that anymore, she had to come to terms with him making his own decisions, like his decision to run away. It hurt, but she supposed that everyone changes when they grow up, still she never thought he would change so much.

"I miss Beacon too." He admitted, "I remember every peaceful day watching young huntsman and huntresses grow." He smiled a small shy smile that would have been nice if it too wasn't tinged with guilt. "It's kind of my home too, but I won't forget you,"

"I know." She released him from her clutches. She let him go, this time willingly. "Thank you,"

"For what?"

"Giving me closure. I now know what happened to my nephew, and you have lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. Take care of my little Oscar,"

This time his smile was almost free. No tragedy is hidden beneath it. And though it was still slightly different from her nephew's, it was infinitely better than his cries. "I swear to you, by both of the brothers I will,"

He turned and walked out of the farmhouse and headed back to Beacon Academy. Back away from home, towards home.

Emmaline Goldenrod watched him go, thinking about the ridiculous things he had told her, the true things? _Did_ she believe them?

She didn't know.

The fact was that it really didn't matter whether or not he was telling the truth. Truth stranger than fiction to be sure. It didn't matter. He was _different._ He _wasn't_ the Oscar she had known. Things that didn't happen to him had still somehow broken him.

He was _loved_.

He was _gone_.

These were the truths. That was what she knew.

...and yet he had sought her out.

 _I owe you that much_ , he had said. He wanted her to have closure, and now she did. She knew where he was, just over the on the other side of the rainbow, at Beacon Academy.

She was sad, of course, how could she not be? She had mourned him thinking him dead, only to have him return as a stranger, it hurt far more than she could ever have imagined. However, what she told him was the truth, she loved him regardless.

* * *

Ozcar returned to the Beacon reconstruction team.

"So, how'd it go pipsqueak?" Qrow asked,

"I am not sure, I told her everything, well... no not _everything,_ " he said with a flinch, he hadn't told her who Salem was to him, and she didn't need to hear the choices he was forced to make. He was doing it again, withholding things.

 _No more lies._ That was something he knew was _his_ influence on the wizard. It never ends well when they lie. People who they care about and trust deserve better than being left in the dark.

 _Thank you, for giving me closure,_ His aunt had said.

She believed him. She thanked him.

She _forgave_ him.

How could anyone do that? "and yet..." he responded looking troubled.

"You okay, Oz?"

"Yeah, 'm fine," another lie. Old habits.

"If you say so," Qrow said after a moment of silence. Qrow wouldn't call him out for this lie. So perhaps, this one was OK to tell. They could still lie to themselves just as easily.

"Hey, Glynda said that she needs you,"

He nodded.

"Also don't forget the second you are done, Ruby will ambush you,"

Oscar laughed, he didn't doubt that.

Oscar was in his damaged office at Beacon Academy. Emmaline was in the fields of the farm. Both were looking at their homes in disarray, both thinking there's no place like home and both wondering if this was truly their home or if maybe they were fooling themselves.

Was home just another lie that they told themselves?


End file.
